


Relay

by VanessaSQuest



Series: Frequency-verse [5]
Category: Jonny Quest, The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 20:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17567690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanessaSQuest/pseuds/VanessaSQuest
Summary: Roughly Part 4 (more will be between here and Zero-Dark) in the Frequency Verse, Jonny is feeling more and more excluded from his family as Jessie acclimates in the family, and now under attack by Gaia, Jonny has to get out from under it... but is all as it seems?





	Relay

Relay by Vanessa S. Quest (Prequel to Frequency)   
The early evening hours were painting the streets dark as Jonny and Hadji waited for Jessie outside of the shop, literally holding the bags.  
“Hurry it up, Jess! Dad’ll be ticked off if we’re late getting back, that dinner starts in two hours and we still need to get dressed, and there!” Jonny finally addressed  
They’d been doing this for hours. Hours of shopping. For clothes. Not exploring Paris or taking in the sites or food… no, they were stuck shopping for girly clothes for day one of a three day trip.  
“It’s not my fault my dress got ruining, you know!” Jessie shot back, picking up an accessory to finalize the outfit. It had been awful—the season’s colors were all wrong for her shoes that had matched her dress perfectly.  
Jonny rolled his eyes, “The hotel could’ve gotten coffee out of your dress, Jessie! They manage on dad’s dress shirts just fine.” The argument from outside the store and the register was nearing a combative conclusion.  
“Well men’s dress shirts aren’t dry-clean only delicate fabrics—it was silk, Jonny. Not satin, not cotton, silk. You’d think while walking around the fashion capital of the world you’d learn that much.”  
“Riiiiiight, so you needed new shoes, new hosiery, a bra, and accessories to go with the new dress?”  
She could kill him. She could actually ring his neck. At least his tirade was in English, but holy hell was she mortified.  
Hadji gave his brother a ‘what happens in Vegas’ look, not too pleased to be reminded of getting cajoled into going into a lingerie store to verify no straps or strange lines were seen while in her new dress. That had taken four attempts. Hadji, patient as he was, had been fluctuating from pale as a sheet and bright as a tomato the entire time as women kept saying in French just how lucky he’d be tonight.  
He feigned an inability to speak or understand. His brat of little brother had bailed on him for that one, claiming that he would in no uncertain terms go into that kind of store with her. It was probably a good call, Jonny barely gave girls any mind at 14, and being around all these mannequins in frilly lace might have been even harder on him than it was on his older brother.  
Right, because Hadji was ‘more mature,’ a bullshit way of saying he’d at least had girlfriends at this point, and seen such artifacts. Come to think of it, Hadji wasn’t sure his brother ever had seen a bra in the wild as it were, except for stray advertisements at malls or in magazines, he and his brother really hadn’t had too much exposure from their upbringing. Which probably explained why the little bray thought advertising it was worthwhile… though he and Jessie had in fact gone on a handful of not strictly platonic outings over the last few months, both kept that information strictly to themselves, particularly keeping it from Jonny as a means to avoid it getting back to Race or Dr. Quest.  
Jessie stormed over, purchase in hand, and shoved Jonny in the chest personally ready to throttle him.  
“I can’t believe you, Quest! We’re in public!”  
“Which is why I said it in English, not French.” Jonny dared, he crossed his arms.  
“It’s also the only reason you don’t have a shiner.” She threatened darkly.  
Her dress had been hung with care on the back of a chair in the common area of the triple suite. She had a small room alone while Jonny and Hadji, and Dr. Quest and her dad were bunked in the larger two rooms. There were no closets, just a small wardrobe in each of the rooms, and hers reeked of cigarettes and sex. Neither of which were smells she wanted affixed to her silk dress.  
And then it happened, as Dr. Quest was pulling over a carafe of hot coffee to work on his speech notes, Bandit feigned left and darted right- right under his feet and he’d sprawled coffee all down the front of her silk dress.  
He’d at least had the courtesy to be aghast, knowing full well he’d ruined a perfectly lovely evening gown in the act.   
Dr. Quest was smart enough to know that.  
“You’d think you’d be able to pull an outfit together faster, it’s Paris after all!” Jonny seethed.  
No one’s day was going as they’d planned. All three of them were thrown from a day of museum-tours and restaurant crawls to the high stress of shopping for formal eveningwear, Jessie wasn’t even big into shopping, it was hard enough to know what was in fashion versus what was coming into fashion and to walk the line of wearability, repeatability, and function. The added bonus of having no female consorts who could collaborate, and the task was Herculean.  
“Oh my god, I’m starving…” Jonny groaned.  
“Ah, the infamous bottomless pit, and we have failed to take in a pit-stop.” Hadji teased.  
“Yeah, and now it’ll be another three hours before I can even get anything.” Jonny’s stomach groaned as well.  
“Alright, I’m done. Let’s head back.” She said mercifully, her voice lilted into a competitive tone as she baited him, “Wanna race back?”  
Hadji condensed the bags into one very carefully. “I most certainly do not have that desire, but I also have a bicycle.” He loaded the bag into the basket gently.  
“Come on, Quest. Or are you afraid of getting your butt kicked by a girl?”  
“Not happening, I’ll smoke you.” Jonny said in annoyance. “But you’re on, first there gets first dibs on the shower.”  
“Oh good, I need to wash my hair.” She shot back in a cocky bravado.  
“Alright, you’re on. On the count of three…” Jonny said, taking his stance.  
“One…” Jonny started.  
“Two…” Jessie added.  
“Three.” Hadji said. Jonny shoved off with a strong start, Jessie following behind but losing ground fast as Jonny burnt a full sprint for 200 meters then dropped into a distance runner’s pace.  
It was a 3 km track, he could easily do an 8 minute mile, as could Jessie, but with the sprint, his time for the distance would be under 15 minutes and he’d have her smoked. All that endurance training for the triathlon he’d been doing over the summer had only improved his already decent run-time, but man oh man was he hungry.  
He hoped the run would divert enough attention from his stomach for a while longer. Skipping lunch after having such a light breakfast was awful. Jessie’s false promises of ‘almost done’ and ‘one more’ and that had gone on until just now.  
He came to a grinding halt at the entrance to the hotel, the clear ‘winner’ on the race, except that neither Jessie nor Hadji were in bird’s eye view. Damn it, they played him.  
He shook his head, annoyed. Those two somehow thought he didn’t know they were dating? Like they weren’t incredibly obvious? Like he hadn’t been Hadji’s wingman?! It was insulting.  
Ugh, and then at the lingerie shop—like he was about to play third wheel there of all places. So he’d bowed out, but per the family safety rules they had to stick together, so he just wandered around the boring storefront next door (and well within the 50 feet buffer per said rule.)  
All of that only for them to ditch him and make it look like he’d bailed on them…  
He groaned aloud. His dad was going to be pissed if he found out, and if he let it slip that they’re a couple to, say, explain why they really ditched him and their desire for a minute of alone time? All of them would be pissed at him.  
His stomach grumbled angrily; third option, he could sneak into a café, grab something small and quick, lose the evidence and hope to all get-out they weren’t stealing a long minute.  
Deciding that was the most pragmatic solution, especially with a café across the street to the hotel, he opted for option three and crossed the street. He could even keep an eye out for them as they made their way back.  
He dodged a few small delivery trucks as he made the sprint to the bistro to grab a croissant with gruyer and ham, and a sparkling water.  
After he’d received his food and scarfed it down, he spotted Jessie and Hadji walk up holding hands as Hadji held the bag, both laughing and flirting with each other.  
He averted his gaze, it felt voyeur to catch the unintended intimacy of the moment. He chugged the water, the bubbles tickled his throat.  
This whole trip sucked. First, there’d be a boring dinner about innovations in plastics—his dad was a key-note speaker after he’d recently submitted a paper for how to populate biomedical grade plastics with anti-microbial compounds and make them less adhesive to biofilms, there were already talks about several awards and accolades, and then his dad was going to do some guest lecture at the University of Paris on the same boring topic he didn’t really understand.  
He looked at the street lights as.  
Benjamin Franklin had worked on illuminating the city of light with his discovery of electricity bringing so much fame, and he’d been an ambassador.  
He like he’d get to go to the embassy or talk about the latest politics in France… Jonny never got a chance to do stuff like that—the museums, which he also really enjoyed, were at least a shared interest though. Common-enough of ground where he could swing two or three, or at least it had been like that before he’d been downgraded to a third-wheel.  
Maybe he could convince them to lose him in the museum, he had to be subtle though. He wasn’t supposed to know that was what they were trying to do.  
-Relay JQ-  
“Jonathon! You’re late—just where have you been!” Dr. Quest fumed as he entered the room, “The others were worried, they thought you’d be back by—”  
“Sorry, we were racing back but I got distracted.” Jonny deflected with poise. If he pissed them off that museum strategy would be out the window. He knew the trade-off was that he was digging a real doozy of a hole with his dad though. He’d been doing that a lot lately, and by the looks of it he was about to get grounded, or lectured, maybe both.  
“—There was a mural I ran by, I had to stop to look at it, I think it was a Banksy piece.”  
He had seen that, just far earlier in the day, though he doubted the others had seen it.  
“Who’s that?”  
The distain in his father’s voice made Jonny’s neck hair bristle. How could he not know such an up-and-coming artist?! He took a breath, right, because he didn’t ‘vandalize’ scientific centers, probably.  
“…He’s a famous contemporary artist, in street art.” Jonny clarified patiently, “I’m surprised they didn’t see it, I guess we took different courses back.”  
That also miffed him. Everything with Jessie boiled down to indifference or a pissing contest. They could never just like the same things—it had to be a competition of who liked it more or was better at it. He really didn’t want to fight over Hadji next. He already lost his dad and Race in her annoying posturing and just by being there.  
His body ached at that thought.  
“I’ll get ready for dinner- is the shower open?”  
“Yes, and don’t dawdle.”  
“Yes sir.” Jonny mumbled, not feeling it. His dad shot him daggers at the tone but didn’t say anything. Yet. Jonny knew that was coming, but not before his event. Heaven forefend he might brood at it and commit that travesty of a sin. He headed to the bathroom and hopped into the shower.  
This trip was so annoying.  
He hated this kind of stuff, being carted around to play a supportive role in his dad’s aggrandizing while all of his interests just fell to the way-side to rot. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten the whole family roped into going to something just he liked… even the triathlon—which he was in—and only Race was there, and that was literally the man’s job. Babysitter-pilot-bodyguard, if he wasn’t, he probably would’ve skipped it and given him cab fare with the way it had been going since April.  
He pushed under the spray of steaming hot water.  
This funk wouldn’t do. He just had to do like he always did, find the bright side and the common ground.  
There was no way neither Hadji nor Jessie would want to skip on the Louvre. Hell, they probably wanted to go to that cheesy lock-bridge, and if Hadji was indifferent, Jonny all but guaranteed Jessie wasn’t.  
As he stepped further into the stream, rinsing off lather, he wondered if his mom had ever gone to Paris. He wondered if she’d gone to the Louvre if she had.  
Maybe he could ask his dad about that later, if he wasn’t totally pissed by then, that was.  
He killed the water and grabbed a scratchy towel to dry off with.  
With petty annoyance, he realized the hair dryer was AWOL… Not wanting to deal with two pissed off redheads, he opted to towel-dry his hair instead.  
Once finished, he wrapped himself in the hotel robe and got to the shared bedroom only to spot Jessie straddled between Hadji’s legs getting zipped up.  
He spun quickly inside the door to face it.  
“What in the hell’re you doing in OUR room, Jessie?!” He blurted, embarrassed. That was two. Twice today he’d seen their blatant flirting and felt like the jerk for bearing witness.  
“Well sor~ry, Quest! I needed help with the zipper! What, never see a girl before?” She shot playfully.  
He spun back around on her, “No. I haven’t.” He hissed, “Not getting dressed in my hotel room, that’s a brave new world for me. If you’re done?”  
She rolled her eyes. “Who pissed in your cheerios?”  
“I need to get dressed before dad flips, so either I’m taking over your room, or you’re getting out of mine, lady’s choice.” He walked to his tux-bag.  
“Fine, whatever, thanks Hadji.” She smiled sweetly at him and gave Jonny a departing shot, “You’ll never get a girl in your hotel room with that kind of attitude, well, unless you keep sharing with Hadji.”  
He felt his chest constrict. Great, now Hadji too was part of her power-grab in his life. “Fine by me, girls have cooties, didn’t you know?”  
She rolled her eyes, shoved his shoulder playfully with her two fingers. “Well, now you have it too.”  
She headed out of the room.  
“You going, too?” He snarked at his brother, his voice softened, “Or do you not care?”  
Hadji shirked his shoulders still putting on his dress shirt’s buttons, he wasn’t sure if his brother was merely embarrassed or mad about his pay-back from earlier but did not feel so obliged to give up his portion of the room to such a whim. “I would much prefer to finish dressing in here, thank you.”  
“Suit yourself.” Jonny said, opening the bag and pulling his slacks. He pulled up his boxers before nixing the robe and slid on a cotton t-shirt then reached for the black slacks and his white oxford cotton dress shirt.  
He buttoned the dress shirt then pulled on his slacks so they would lie smoothly. He pulled on his socks and shoes, his belt and watch then flipped up his collar, adjusted the collar-guard, his cuff buttons, adorned his tie and with practiced ease tied the four-in-hand knot. Finally, he tossed on his jacket, he buttoned the top two but left the last one undone, shoved the matching square into the pocket at his left and then eye the mirror for a spot-check.  
His brother had finished up at about the same, neither dallying, though the tie-the-tie was always the hard part for Hadji who rarely wore them, he usually opted for his traditional clothes.  
“Want a hand?”  
“Yes, if you do not mind.” Hadji replied.  
Jonny redid Hadji’s tie for it to fall flat with a windsor knot, smoothed it out and tapped his chest. “You didn’t both have to ditch me, you know.” He said quietly. His blue eyes flicked up to catch Hadji’s warm brown orbs.  
“Believe it or not, you could both just ask for me to wander off for a few.” He shook his head, “Alright, do you have cufflinks or no?”  
“No.”  
“Cool, then I’m not wearing any, either.” Jonny exited the room before his brother could ask him to expound. “You both down for the Louvre tomorrow?”  
Hadji was watching himself in the mirror, readjusted the tie to loosen it a bit more.  
“It is definitely on the list of places to see, but so is the museum of industrial science.”  
Jonny’s shoulders dropped minutely, “Oh yeah, Paris is world renowned for that one too.” He said sarcastically before he entered the shared room of the triple suite. He steeled himself for his dad’s ire about his tardiness but was pleasantly surprised by his own distracted nature, instead.  
“Still putting together your speech dad?” Jonny asked cautiously.  
“Hm? No, that’s not of concern.” He continued to study a slip of paper.  
Jonny tried to read over his dad’s shoulder, “What’s that? The itemized bill from Jessie’s shopping spree?” He joked.  
That did catch his dad’s ire, the paper was shoved into his breast pocket as he turned to look at the blond, “That happens to be ‘none of your business,’ hence why I hadn’t shared it.”  
“Alright! Sorry!” Jonny held his hands up in defense, “I surrender… I didn’t think you got love notes.”  
The heated glare actually startled him. Wait- did he hit too close to home?! His expression showed that bemused thought before he could fully mask it with a cheery face, “Or is it fan mail?”  
He sighed and turned to avert his gaze from his father’s irked expression, “Where’s Race, anyway? Helping Jess with hair and make-up?”  
“Checking the car.” His dad said in a clipped tone.  
Jonny headed to the couch and sat down, great, that really did shoot his chance of asking about trips his parents had taken together. He spotted Bandit and called him closer, giving him the ‘dog hair’ warning so the old boy’d stay to his feet as he scratched his ears.  
“Bandkey or no—”  
“Banksy.” Jonny corrected, not his best move.  
“Young man, don’t interrupt! Safety rules are there for reasons, and you’ll do well to follow them. You know better.”  
“We were together, I just wanted to run back.” Jonny covered, he didn’t even know why he was bothering with that, “It was less than 30 minutes.”  
“Oh, well that’s a world of difference. Nothing tragic has ever happened in less than thirty whole minutes.”  
Jonny flinched, that was a cheap shot. A real cheap shot. The sad glare he shot back at his dad said as much.  
“Why are you in such a bad mood? You like these kinds of things.” Jonny said in open frustration, now that his bad mood was truly contagious.  
He wondered if his grandpa would be up soon, he could just call him to ask where his mom’d traveled. He’d know and would be happy to talk to him. Realization of the phone bill made him veto that, his dad would bust a gasket if he made a long international call to Grandpa Doug of all people.  
God, why couldn’t they just get along?! He shook his head to himself, same reason his dad didn’t get along with him of late, maybe—no common living interests. Damn, that stung to think of himself as a living non-interest. His eyes flitted up toward his dad’s, crud. He’d zoned out. Now he really was in the thick.  
“What are you doing off on Planet Jonny?!”  
He diverted his eyes, not willing to divulge, “…I was thinking about something, you were saying?”  
“That’s exactly why you can’t go gallivanting on Parisian roads alone, is it graffiti or a ruse, who knows—you wouldn’t notice.”  
He let his dad continue his patronizing diatribe, only finishing his first lecture series of the night when Hadji and Jessie entered the room, finally.  
“Yes sir.” Jonny provided glumly, still zoning him out as much as possible, his friends finally giving him some reprieve by making their very late entrance.  
“Dad just called up from the lobby, the car’s ready.” Jessie said, she had her hair up in a French twist.  
Both of the older Quest men seemed to take in the outfit with appreciation.  
Jonny couldn’t care less about the light blush chiffon dress, glittering bangle, and matching clutch and pumps. It looked like Barbie dress-up, but apparently that was fashionable.  
“You look lovely, Jessie.” Dr. Quest praised, he looked over Hadji, also approving of his suit, “You managed the tie?”  
“Yes sir.” Hadji fibbed.  
“I’ll be in the lobby.” Jonny stated, not one word of who helped him ‘manage’ it, not one ‘you look nice, son’ to him… He guessed he just looked like crap, then. He headed down before he could hear a further complaint.  
-Relay JQ-  
At the car, a sharp black BMW M-class with mirror-tinted windows, Race waved Jonny into the back. He sat on the passenger’s side to be out of glare range, he buckled in as the others reached the vehicle. Ignoring his family, he watched out the window at the city of lights living up to its namesake.  
Poor Bandit had to stay in that stuffy old hotel by himself. He’d have to convince Race to walk with them both later so he’d get to experience his French heritage.  
At least that would be nice.  
He carefully looked at the reflection of his dad off the glass, back to reading that damned love note.  
God, if he did pick up a girlfriend he’d really be up shit-creek. He’d probably have to find a military school to self-enroll in so he could get mailed off.  
His eyes darted back out the window, he could see the Eiffel tower poke out in the distance, it really did look majestic.  
His stomach growled angrily, again. He blew out a breath, sure he’d hear it about table manners next.  
As they parked in the reserved area of the convention hall, Jonny quickly undid his lap belt and was first out of the car. The street smelled of tobacco and dark after-rain earth.  
He felt a hand pinch the back of his neck, he saw his dad, still with a ‘pleasant’ mood around him.  
Jonny licked the backs of his teeth, he couldn’t have possibly pissed him off enough to warrant the ‘go to your room and out of my sight’ neck pinch! That way he’d be forcibly frog-marched when his dad had had it with some particularly boyish shenanigan, though, usually those shenanigans had always been relatively minor, so maybe this was too?  
He wondered if Hadji’d ever got the neck pinch.  
No. Probably not. He’d been the get-out-of-trouble son, not the get-in-trouble one. He felt the hand drop to his mid-back once they were inside. In polite company.  
He took a side step, tired of feeling steered like grandpa’s cattle.  
“Jonny.”  
It was a sharp warning, but he deflected with practiced ease, “Yes dad? It’s just up ahead?” He smiled with impeccable polish. Apparently unwilling to get at it in a conference dinner, his dad gave a more forced smile.  
“It is. We’re stationed at table 19, toward the middle left.”  
“Ah, well then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll make a visit to the W-C while you go schmooze.”  
There were those daggers again. He beat a hasty step to get out of range. That had bought him five minutes, but boy would he hear it later… he shrugged to himself, or not. His dad could be fickle, but biology breaks are real things, he couldn’t really be that mad that he’d go before he presented—not missing a word of his dad’s ego trip.  
As the dinner was ramping up, there were several visitors to their table, and several tours around the room he endured.  
That damn neck pinch was back as he met one of his dad’s female fans.  
“Ah, Doc-tor Quest—and this must be your boy—Joannene—” she mispronounced in a heavily French tongue.  
“Jonny, this is Dr. Arquette. She practices medical research.” His father introduced.  
The brunette was petite, she was spritely, but not exactly a looker. She kept pushing up her oversized glasses and shooting his dad an intensely interested look, what Jonny assumed was the equivalent of ‘bedroom eyes.’  
Something about that made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. It was so awkward to watch someone literally fawn over his dad in such a blatant way.  
He almost scoffed, that’s who would’ve wrote that love note. He’d almost put money on it.  
From what little of it he’d read of it, he thought it had said something about the fleetingness of love or some sappy garbage. That this lab-mouse could pen something so sappy was impressive.  
“How do you know my dad?” He smiled politely, he felt the hand tighten on his neck, apparently this was supposed to be a ‘short’ conversation, well too bad! Now he’d get to squirm too.  
“Oh, I have followed hees work for many years! I studied in Amereeca for one semester een Graduate School and he was the… non… how to say—Teacher’s Asseesstaunt.”  
“Oh, at what school?” Jonny asked, genuinely curious. He’d never heard his dad was a TA!  
“It was Stanford.” Benton provided.  
Jonny turned to look at his dad, that was his ‘politely go fuck yourself,’ voice, “So was that before or after you and mom got married?”  
He realized how little tact that had had after he’d said it, “Oh! Excuse me, Dr. Arquette, dad went to Stanford twice—grad school and a PhD.” He tried to salvage.  
“Ah, eet was aft-air he was mahrried.” She winked, “We girls were quite aware of the striking blond auditing the class.”  
Jonny laughed, “Mom was keeping tabs on you?” It was too funny, she would’ve made all those girls take notice, though.  
“No, she was interested in that professor’s research topic but was too shy to just approach him about it.” Came the same short, polite voice, his eyes were softer though, thinking about her.  
“Well, it was very nice speaking with you Dr. Arquette, enjoy the dinner.” Jonny shook her hand, glad to hear the story.  
“Oui, you too Joannene…”  
The hand shifted to his shoulder, pinching almost painfully as they navigated away.  
“Can you quit that?” Jonny said under breath, still smiling and waving at the various hand-shakers they’d soon encounter, “It hurts.”  
The hand relaxed but didn’t move. “Jonny, listen to me—”  
He turned to look at his dad, “It was college, I get it, it’s like Alice, right?”  
“What?” His nose crinkled in disgust, “What are you going on about? No—it’s about…”  
“Ah, Dr. Quest! It’s been far too long!”  
“Dr. Yuan, how are you? It has been- oh, you’ve met Jonny.”  
“Yes, at about wee-high,” the doctor gestured to her knee.  
Jonny tilted his head trying to remember, but failing.  
“I used to work for Intelligence One, I have since moved on to Inter-Pol.”  
“Interpol? I wouldn’t think they’d be interested in a conference for cutting edge medical research…”  
“Of course it must seem so to you, but we like to keep on top of changes in technology. I’m in Pathology, I hope you consider serialization for this application.” She winked playfully.  
“…When did I meet you?” Jonny asked, still not placing the woman.  
“Oh, you were three or four, in the lab when she stopped in, I was keeping an eye on you while your mom recovered from the flu.”  
“Huh. I don’t remember, sorry Dr. Yuan.”  
She laughed, “I’d certainly hope not.” The older woman smiled at him again, “Dr. Quest, I heard you had wanted to discuss something with me?”  
“Ah, yes…” he looked at his son, “Excuse me for a moment.”  
“Knock yourselves out.” Jonny smiled politely, moved to another circle to schmooze with that his dad had yet to hit. He glanced over to see him hand her something from his pocket.  
Dr. Arquette bumped his shoulder, spilling one of her two drinks on him. “Oh! Excusez-moi!”  
Jonny felt something slime his jacket and winced at the coldness of it.  
“Oh no! Look at thees mess! Let me—” She helped pull off his jacket, immediately whisking it off to blot away the liquid.  
Jonny followed her, keen to get his jacket back.  
“Ah! It’s okay, Dr. Arquette, really, I can get that—”  
“No, I inseest. I almost have eet…”  
Jonny floundered, not sure what to say in this position, so he redirected, “How long have you been in research?”  
“Oh, a long time now, Joannene,” She handed him a cup of tea.  
“Oh, may I? Merci.” He took a sip, “What are you working on currently? Anything I might’ve read about state-side?” He continued on in a friendly manner, still sipping on the elixir.  
“Hmm, I do not think eet is known to the states yet, but eet will soon be publeeshed in Amereeca. I believe my publeesher said next year.”  
“What’s the topic?”  
“Oh, genetique mark-airs to illumeenate children like jellyfish… this technique has been modified so that it can be used to detect insertion in them.”  
“Oh I’ve heard about that—a few years ago, I thought it was already used on mammalian cells though?”  
“My Engleesh may not be good enough to explain the differences Joannene.”  
“Oh, défier mon François?”  
She gave a gentle laugh, “I will take you up on that at a later time, here is your jacket.” She took hold of the cup for a moment so he could pull it back on.  
“Thanks.” He donned his jacket and inspected the stain, took back the near empty tea cup.  
“Jonny! There you are!”  
He flinched, spotted Race. “Did the speeches start?”  
Race waved him over, inspected the stain. He gave Dr. Arquette a terse smile, “Excuse us.”  
Jonny took another sip of the orange pekoke tea, it had a strange note he couldn’t place, but was quite good, especially with how hungry he felt.  
“Kiddo,” he waited till they were out of earshot, “Don’t go wandering off.”  
“Wandering off? Race, she took my jacket, I couldn’t just—”  
He looked over the boy. Jonny gave him a concerned look back, “What’s with this def-con 5 stuff, Race? You and dad… what’s going on?”  
“Your dad received a threat, now I don’t want you leaving our sights until we figure it out.”  
“What was the threat, Race?” Jonny let out a low warning.  
“…”  
“What that the ‘love note’ he was looking at?” He seethed.  
“Love note?” Race asked back, perplexed.  
“What I saw of it, it said something to the effect about love being fleeting, something sappy like that, it was in French.”  
“That’s not what it said, Jonny.”  
“Then what did it say? As much as you both preach about being forthcoming and honest, you’re hardly being that way yourselves.” Jonny threw out the empty cup of tea, forced his way back to the table, both of them, they were never like this before Jessie moved in!  
At the table, he took off his jacket and folded it over his chair.  
Race took a seat next to him, touched his elbow. “Kiddo, it was a threat—a specific one against you.”  
Jonny glared at him, “And no one thinks I just might need to know about that?!” He blew a sigh, “And what’s this ‘specific’ threat then?” he clipped- almost snarling.  
“You saw Dr. Yuan? She’s running that info back to our counterparts to check on it. The threat was that you could be made to disappear easily enough, something to that effect.”  
“Yeah, sure…” he muttered to himself about it being way too late for him to pull that hat-trick, first he’d have to reappear to his family.  
The only time he was visible was when he was in trouble, these days.  
“So you were checking the car…?” He eyed his bodyguard.  
“Just in case, yes.”  
“When did you get the threat?”  
“A few hours ago, while you kids were out.”  
He turned toward the stage, “And you think this place isn’t safe? But Hadj and Jess walking around it fine…?”  
“They’re together, and the threat was aimed at you.”  
“No, I get it. They’re together,” he nodded hurt, “and the most likely place these guys would strike would be at the event dad’s scheduled at, but they dropped the note off at the hotel. It’s like no one learns.” He raised his hands in frustration.  
“That’s—” Race paused, that’s a goddamned landmine he was about to step onto. The parallels to his mom’s death were pronounced. “—fair, for you to think that way, it’s fair, but we are taking it very seriously.”  
“Oh, of course, by evidence that we’re still here.” Jonny’s voice was dripping in heated sarcasm, he shook his head. “No, I know why we’re here…” he mumbled, after all he didn’t matter—not with Hadji and Jessie, the ‘good’ kids, he was just a biological spare. A third wheel in that way too.  
“What did that lady want from you?” Race pried, the kid’s sour mood aside.  
“She spilled a drink on me and was wiping my jacket off. She’d been talking to dad earlier. I don’t think he likes her much.”  
“Who is she?”  
“I don’t know—Dr. Arquette, she went to grad school with dad. I thought she’d wrote that love letter to dad and it was just awkward.”  
“Why did you think that?”  
His head was starting to ache dully, “Because it was a love-letter in French and she was fumbling all over herself trying to talk to dad like some love-struck puppy.” He laughed darkly, “Yeah I bet mom ‘wanted to research’ that professor… she was probably keeping all the grad students at bay so dad could focus.”  
Race put a hand on Jonny’s shoulder.  
“I just really wanted to ask him if mom’d ever even been to Paris, you know?! But he’s been in such a foul mood I couldn’t even do that much on this stupid trip.”  
“Are you alright?” Race was measuring him now.  
“Of course I am, we’re at dad’s prestigious dinner, yet another person wants me gone, and I haven’t had much of anything to eat all day, but thanks for checking in on the ol’ third wheel.”  
He spotted Jessie and Hadji, still flirting on the down-low just conferring in the doorway, he closed his eyes, his head hurt catastrophically, he really hoped he didn’t have a migraine coming on. Not now. The lights began to dim for the first speaker. He’d had a handful of those after getting pistol-whipped last year, a consequence of the swelling according to the neurologist.  
“You don’t look alright.” Race was pushing his chair back, oblivious to the talks going on in the front of the room, Jessie and Hadji headed back to the table to see what was going on.  
Jonny leaned his head into his hand, elbow firm on the table, now that he was going to tack on an extra lecture about boorish table manners… “It’s just a headache.” He muttered.  
His dinner plate, when had that even gotten there? It looked like that Banksy mural he’d saw earlier.  
He closed his eyes, trying to will away the piercing throb.  
“C’mon,” Race pulled at his other elbow to raise him up, “Something’s wrong, come on—”  
“Stop pulling at me!” Jonny wrenched his arm free, he watched the mural talk in thought bubbles, he stared at it in disbelief.  
Has anyone ever truly been anywhere?  
He blinked at it in silent wonder.  
Or are we sold the image of an ideal where and told to chase that unattainable moment, thriving on our own unhappiness…  
He squeezed his eyes shut then turned from the dish. Race took his wrist, the kid’s pupils were the size of dinner-plates, there practically wasn’t any blue left to them. The kid looked across the room, suddenly transfixed to the one spot.  
A beautiful blond smiled at him, waving at him—blowing air kisses.  
Of course he recognized his mom anywhere, she turned to see the speaker on the stage. Jonny saw the holes in her stomach and chest with high-definition clarity even from across the room. He turned to look to where she was looking.  
His dad was rushing his delivery, eying toward their general vicinity, he looked back toward where his mom had been.  
He gasped, she’d walked straight to him. His hand reached toward her only to feel Race grab it.  
“I’ve got you, what’s wrong Jonny, talk to me?”  
He pulled his hand away again then froze, terrified.  
His mom’s orbits were black, emptied caverns contorted into a ghoulish, angry look.  
Is that how a gentleman acts, young man?  
Jonny grabbed his throat, he felt his voice vanish into the depths of those caverns and his own private hell. He felt Race turn his face to lock eyes.  
“Jonny, what’s wrong?”  
He tapped, “MOM – HERE” in Morse code. He turned back to look at her, her eyes were there again, as was her peaceful smile and those sickeningly clear, bleeding holes.  
Tell him sweetheart.  
He grabbed his stomach, folding, only to tilt his head up to watch the spot his mother took up. “SICK – SOMETHING – WRONG.” He tapped urgently.  
Race kept trying to turn his head toward him, Jonny kept his eyes on the hallucination but let his face be turned more.   
“How are you sick, kiddo?” he turned to Jessie and said in a hushed voice, “Get Benton here, now.”  
She nodded and rushed off.  
“HEAD – STOMACH – SEEING – SCARY – THINGS.”  
“Can you speak?”  
“NO,” he tapped.  
He watched his mom just bleed, she clapped at him proudly, as mute as he was.  
I can hear you, sweetheart. She smiled, reached toward his face but held off from making contact. Don’t forget to tell him.  
His head tilted, not sure he fully understood what she meant. “TEA – TASTED – FUNNY – DOCTOR – ARQUETTE – GAVE – ME.”  
She smiled at him with a blackened mouth.  
He squeezed his eyes shut then open and slid down against the chair, he was shaking violently, the image overlapped with thousands of nightmares he’d never been able to fully remember, suddenly the bullet holes stretched as coal-blackened arms shot through them, stretching, contorting as they grabbed at him. They ripped and dismembered his mother’s corpse while worms worked as sutures trying to string her back together as they kept launching at him.  
As they touched him, he felt a scalding heat where they connected.  
His body folded in half, he fainted at the sight of the horrors.  
Race caught him, his fingers diffing at his throat for a pulse, “I’ve got you, Jonny, I’m here…” he said in gentle, shushed tones, the same way he’d comforted the boy as a small child.  
Benton was running over, he ignored the odd looks from the party-goers as he reached his son.  
“Jess, Hadji, stay here. I’m pulling the car around. Doc, he’s hallucinating. I think he’s been poisoned.”  
“Poisoned?!”  
“Arquette gave him tea, he said it tasted off. Hadji, call 999.”  
He nodded, his hand already retrieved the phone and was dutifully dialing.  
There were hushed murmurs filling the hall, whispers of gossip and gawking, shit the kid just didn’t deserve. He was pleasantly surprised to see Dr. Yuan run up to them, apparently the murmuring did have its uses.  
“It was Arquette.” Race told the Interpol counterpart.  
She ignored him to look at Jonny’s seizing muscles spasm in small clusters systematically, she pushed up his eyelids.  
“Right, has anyone called the ambulance yet?” She called loudly.  
Hadji nodded, “I am speaking with the operators now.”  
“Give me the phone.” She reached toward it. She put her nose to Jonny’s mouth, “Dr. Quest, what does his breath smell like to you?”  
He leaned over his son and smelled his breath, “Licorice maybe? Anisette?”  
“That’s what it smells like to me too.”  
Benton began undoing the buttons to his son’s dress shirt.  
Dr. Yuan snatched the phone from Hadji’s hand and ripped it to her ear, “Dispatcher? My name is Doctor Rin-Lae Yuan, I have an unresponsive young man who is showing signs of nightshade poisoning, likely hell’s bells—” she waited for the dispatcher to repeat. “Correct. Please advise the paramedics and the hospital to be ready with physostigmine.”  
Blue lights and sirens filled the opening space of the hall as the paramedics rushed in just behind Race who led them straight back. As they headed closer, Jonny’s eyes shot open, he stared off to his 9 o’clock resuming his fixed gaze to the hallucination as though he’d dozed off while studying.  
“Son, I’m here.” Dr. Quest grabbed his hand, the blond didn’t even hesitate at the contact, pulling his hand free to reach toward the object of his stare.  
“Doc, you riding with him?” Race asked quickly. He nodded. “Alright, we’re following behind, kids—on the double.”  
Dr. Yuan stood as the paramedics transferred him to the gurney. “He has atropine poisoning, he needs anticholinergic medication—his breathing has slowed drastically, he needs to be put on a ventilator, stat.”  
On the ambulance, a long needle was inserted into the crook of Jonny’s arm, the IV taped down as his temperature and heart rate were taken.  
In shock, Benton read the displays, in the English metric it was 103°F, heart rate at a little over 180bpm, and blood pressure of 220 over 200. He watched muscle groups misfire in tumultuous tremors up his arms, legs, and chest, the way he kept eying his 9 o’clock unnerved him.  
An oxygen mask was over his mouth and nose, though that was by far a short fix, his respiratory muscles were struggling to coordinate enough to draw the air in, oxygenated or no.  
The ten minute ride ended at the entryway to one of the best hospitals in France, hyperthermic, Jonny looked a sickly shade of purple-red.  
His eyes were rolling upward again as the triage doctors worked to insert a breathing tube and a portable bladder. As the bladder was pressed, his chest rose, Dr. Quest squeezed his hand.  
“Jonny, hold on,” he pleaded, “Just hold on.”  
He winced as the lights of the hospital hit his face, he felt ice on his arms and legs, it felt wonderful, because without it he could feel his arms and legs breaking down, dissolving into a painful sludge.  
He could see his mom still smiling at him, refusing to touch him as he reached toward her. Though she didn’t utter a sound, he could ‘hear’ her thoughts clear as day.  
Try to stay awake sweetheart.  
He thought back, I don’t think I can, mom… Can’t I sleep, stay with me, please…  
He felt a cold hand on his forehead, “Hold on, son, just hold on…”  
He closed his eyes, that order too tall to fill. He just wanted to rest, everything hurt too much, even breathing was too much.  
His lungs filled anyway, it burned so much. He felt char-covered, black hands grab him, his skin and muscles burnt at the contact. That awful, fast metronome playing in the background made his splitting headache hurt even more.  
He winced miserably, the pain was so awful, and even with all the pokes, prods, and charcoal slurries they’d pumped into his stomach only to immediately suction right back out from his nose, the one constant, calming sound floated over him. He wondered if his mom was the one humming, if that was the source of the sound, his eyes trailed to his 9 o’clock.  
Half-lidded and groggy, he didn’t know why she wasn’t thinking at him now. She’d been doing so for hours on end, and now there was humming instead, but no other talking.  
It was painful how much he wanted to hear her voice, her words, he missed it so, so much.  
His eyes traced the dim room, that damn beeping really made his headache split. His eyes fell onto his dad.   
The humming paused.  
Half-lidded, he wondered if his dad had been the one humming. He felt so heavy, everything ached.  
“I know, I know…” Benton stroked his cheek, “It must feel rotten, try to rest.”  
Jonny blinked back toward sleep as the humming resumed, it lulled him deeper. The nightmares forced him to a state of semi-consciousness after none too long though.  
The parade of corpses coming from the catacombs beneath the sewers were trying to pull him down with them, as they swarmed, the only one to not touch him, scald him, was his mother.  
A manic look of excite darted across her empty eye sockets whenever he convulsed had terrified him, and when the convulsions stopped, they were replaced with a kind mirth and milky-pale blue-white eyes. At one point he’d awoken to see that deranged, manic look hovering his face, he even felt dirt-clotted hair brush his face.  
He’d tried to sit bolt-right only to feel hot hands shove him down hard, they spoke in a strange hybrid of English and French he could barely follow and it was frightful.  
The cool hand on his bicep had made him avert his gaze from the ghoul handing just atop him, her feet pressing into his sternum as she squatted to gawk, giddy in wait.  
Wet tears flowed freely from his bloodshot, near-black eyes. The slivers of blue hardly noticible. His hair was matted with sweat and oil from just four hours of this hell.  
The cool hand slipped through the open ‘collar’ of Jonny’s hospital gown to touch the top of his shoulder.  
“I’m here, it’s just a nightmare,” came the barrage of assuagements, “Try to rest…”  
His gaze drifted back to the ghoul wearing his mother’s decomposed face like a mask, he squeezed his eyes shut to will away the terror only to find it quite resilient in piercing the dark.  
The rapid noise of the metronome sounded as a train going over a chancy bridge.  
With the weight of the ghoul on his chest, he fell under, unable to keep enough wind despite the damned forcible intake.  
“Benton, is he asleep?” Race stepped in, proffering coffee as she spoke in soft tones.  
“Sleep implies rest, he’s unconscious. He’s terrified.”  
“They said it causes delirium, and well, his source material isn’t all rosy.”   
Benton took the coffee. “Did they find Dr. Arquette?”  
“No. They found Dr. Yuan though—dead.”  
“What? How?!” he sat down in the chair next to his son’s bed.  
“I’d rather not say that in front of him.” He looked pointedly at the fitful body on the bed.  
A look of consternation passed over Benton, but he conceded the point.  
“Are they still trying to cool him down?”  
Red hair bobbed to indicate yes. “His heart’s in over-drive. There’s a very real risk he’ll go arrhythmic.”  
“I’d like to sit with him, you could get a power-nap in. The kids are at the second location.” He hinted, neither wanted to give any more shots at the family. “It’s secure there, but I’m sure they’d like to see a familiar face.”  
“I can’t just leave him in this state.”  
“Even with me here with him?”  
Benton considered it, Race had always been a natural around his youngest.  
“…”  
Race gave him a measured look, “…”  
“—Alright, but only for a few hours. They said he’d be incredibly disoriented. I don’t want him alone.”  
“Neither do I, the threat’s still active even if he’s on one helluva trip.”  
“Tell me about it…” Benton sighed, “Do the kids know what happened to Dr. Yuan? Or are we all in the dark?”  
He pulled the report from his breast pocket and handed it to Dr. Quest, “That’s what went over the wire. You have your pistol?”  
He gave the white-haired man a curt nod. That service pistol had served him well, a regular old reliable.  
“Then keep it with you, arm’s reach.” He handed Benton a set of keys. “When you’re up to it, we’ll trade off.”  
Benton nodded and took the keys. As their hands made the baton-pass, they lingered for a moment with raw nerve.  
“He’ll pull through. He’s scrappy that way.”  
That earned him a lop-sided smile, as tired as it was.   
“He’s curtained had to be.” Dr. Quest brushed the blond locks of his son’s bangs aside. “Son, I’ll be right back, Race is here though. You’re safe.”  
The fluttering but unopening blond eyelashes made him sure the message was as received at it could be.  
He made a brisk path to the car. The sooner he’d rest, the sooner he could return.  
-Relay JQ-  
Race waited for Benton to be out of earshot and sightline before he took the vacated chair and a firm hold of Jonny’s hand.  
“I’m here with you kiddo.” He tapped the same message back to the boy’s palm as he held it in his large hands.  
The boy’s eyes opened half-lidded, he looked tiredly at the older man.  
“You can tell me about your nightmares if you want. I’m here to protect you.” He spoke and signaled.  
He could sense the gratefulness exude from the boy, he looked like hell.  
“MONSTERS – CORPSES – MOM – THERE – NO – EYES – WATCHING – ME.”  
He nodded along, he was right to not let him hear about Dr. Yuan, that already sounded like Hell on Earth.  
“BURNS – THE – DEAD – HANDS – BURN – EVERYWHERE – HOOK – TEETH.”  
“You know this is just a nightmare, right champ?”  
“GHOUL – WEARING – MOMS – BODY.”  
He winced, that kid had too deep of a well for a bad trip, he was genuinely concerned about his psychological state, but that definitely explained the heart rate. He had to get that in check, even a triathlete can’t keep their heart stressed that hard for too long. “What hurts, Jonny?”  
“HEAD – CHEST – MUSCLES – EVERYTHING – REALLY.”  
He blew an agreeable laugh, “Oh, I’m sure. How about your eyes?”  
“LIGHTS – RACE – WHERE – ARE – WE.” He took a moment, tried to recall, “WHAT – HAPPENED – SICK.”  
“The hospital, you were poisoned.” He studied the looks, that didn’t seem to answer it. “Paris.”  
“PARIS.” Jonny asked or stated, Race wasn’t sure, that was the limit of Morse code, no inflection. “WHEN – IS – THE – CONFERENCE – DINNER.”  
Race smiled, “Don’t worry about it, you need rest.” God he hoped the kid didn’t fry his brain.  
Jonny turned toward his 9 o’clock. “I – WANT –TO –BREATHE – CANT – THEY – TAKE – OUT – THIS – TUBE.”  
“No way, no how, not until you’re stable. What’re you looking at anyway?”  
“MOM – SAID – IM – FINE.”  
He wondered if this was his mom with no eyes and hook-teeth or just her regular corpse.  
“TIRED.”  
“Sleep there, I’m here with you. Anything gets too scary and you tell me about it.”  
“OK”  
“At a boy.”  
-Relay JQ-  
Jonny’s eyes shot wide as he awoke, his chest hurt something terrible!  
He felt tapping at his hand, heard the tenor of Race’s voice.  
“It was a nightmare, I’m here, how do you feel?”  
Race’s doe-brown eyes swept over Jonny’s frame. His heart monitor was out of synchronicity to the fast thrum. Shit. That was very bad.  
“Kiddo, talk to me…”  
As the boy’s body twitched and spasmed violently he realized the impossibility of that request.  
“Okay, I’m hitting the call button, let’s get you lying flat…” He spoke through his motions. The unnerved look the teen had just before him made him startle, what horror was he seeing? He leaned over Jonny, his pupils still blown out, but now only half as much. “Jonny focus on me, I’m with you. Where are you? Do you remember?”  
He offered to distract him.  
The teen looked to his nine, a long, salivating tongue dropped from the hooked-tooth mouth.  
The near foot long tongue slipped over the mismatching lips, blackened hands reached toward him and gripped his wrists as his EKG signaled severe distress. A blackened hand reached his cheek, ran just below his eyes to swipe up tears to only lick them clean.  
The same hand rested on his chest, conforming in shape.  
As the air smelled of burning electricity, he felt it course through him, a cold gel over his chest, his abs constricted with an intensity of a PX90 workout, the staccato eased back to a less trying rhythm, the ghoul masquerading as his dead mother slunk back to the corner of the room.  
He felt nauseous , he let his gaze cast over his legs, two devils were slathering at his calved, gnawing the ooze they were slowly melting into. The feel of cold on his skin shocked him to look at Race, his head swimming.  
“Your dad’ll be back real soon, Jonny…”  
Jonny blinked, “WHEN – DID – HE – LEAVE.” He tried to focus, “CONFERENCE.”  
“No kiddo, we left that a while ago.” Race clutched his hand, it was strange, him being so far away mentally.  
Jonny’s eyes fluttered shut, asleep.  
He awoke to the feel of a cold hand on his cheek, it shot through him as he spotted his father’s panicked eyes as his went wide in response.  
“Jonny, rest, it’s okay…” He cooed.  
He offered a small, polite smile he hardly felt, he looked grey. The blond stared at him, when had his dad become so washed in color? His eyes explored the hospital room, a soft sunlight burnt the edges of the blinds a glowing orange.  
While the older man watched, he tapped his fingers, though it seemed meaningless to his dad.  
Jonny gave him a pointed look as if his question had been ignored, he saw the perplexed look.  
He repeated it slower.  
“WHERE – IS – RACE – WHEN – DID – YOU – GET – HERE – WHERES – MOM – MOMS – GONE.”  
“It’s okay son,” the slight man ignored, putting a gentle hand over his as it shook out the code.  
He focused now, looking for any sign of someone who could understand him.  
“It’s morning now, the symptoms should be wearing off.” His dad spoke over him, “They’ll take the tube out soon, I’m told.”  
Jonny eyed the foot of the bed, avoiding eye contact.  
“This whole trip has been a wash, hasn’t it?” He said in camaraderie to the youth.  
Jonny looked back to him, unsure. What trip? “GO – HOME.” He asked.  
His dad rubbed his hand, “You’ll stop shaking soon, you’ll be fine.”  
He looked tiredly at the grey-looking man.  
“Did you want to hear me talk for the lecture hall?” He non-asked, the captive audience seemed too keen to listen.  
Jonny looked for any escape, without being understood and trapped to it, he heard the lecture as some practice run.  
As Benton watched his eyes gloss over he realized with a keen certainty that he’d never had a proper exposure to chemistry, “Oh, sorry- I’m going over your head, aren’t I?”  
Jonny blinked at him tiredly. It was a waste to try to communicate, he didn’t even realize he was speaking to him in Morse code… or that he could write had he even bothered to check.  
With a turn of his head, he watched the door hoping for some form of rescue, like a fire, maybe.  
“Polymers are repeating chains – plastics are long, long chains of these units. You can add N-groups, such as a daisy chain of ribbons with a bead marker at key places – except the antibiotics are the bead, and as you layer these polymer ribbons it becomes the workable fabric, or more precisely, plastic.”  
He debated internally the merits of courting death, his hallucinations sure had been ushers thereof. God, he ached painfully.  
Winging a sideways glance, the kind he’d always been yelled at for producing due to the non-verbal sass he wondered if his dad would take the hint finally.  
His eyes darted back to the door at the sign of motion. That seemed to catch his dad’s narrow attention as he kept droning on.  
Jessie and Hadji were enraptured with his talk. Jonny eyed the ceiling, maybe he could force himself to sleep. Maybe nightmares were better than this boredom.  
“WANT – TO – SLEEP.” He tapped, maybe, just maybe one of his friends would catch his distress signal, and even better, heed it.  
To no amount of surprise, his signal was not received. He turned his head slightly to the side then closed his eyes, the motion had hurt, but so did everything so really what was one more discomfort?  
Trying to imagine it, he summoned the distant memory of Thanksgiving from years ago—the last his grandpa had come to, instead his dad now took to just shipping him off.  
Not sure if that was better or worse, he couldn’t get why his dad couldn’t just do what he did constantly and broker a goddamned peaceful event by compromising or just sucking it up and dealing with it.  
His grandpa’d insisted on sitting next to Jonny but also at the mantle of the table – both adult patriarchs anchoring the ends – the table had been condensed for seating the small crowd and still fit the sides and meats – Race had sat near Hadji, across at an angle from Dr. Quest, the seat across from Jonny had been empty, Jonny next to Hadji, who was also next to their dad, at the head of the table.  
His grandpa kept peppering him about his likes, his interests – favorite animals, which he’d answered ‘Bandit’ at least twice.  
The gruff older man even told him stories about his mom when she was his age – how she’d wandered off to town, a 15 mile walk in the desert, at 10, and how it scared him half stiff and how she’d brought back a stray dog that they’d take in…  
In hindsight, he might’ve been needling his dad about adopting Hadji with no woman at home, or he could’ve just been telling him a story he thought he’d like to hear.  
He also told the story of his mom getting a horned owl to fly again, she was always into biology, though. Then he asked Jonny what his favorite subject was—His dad answered for him. “He’s gotten very good at engineering principles…”  
The looked between grandson and grandpa had made it so abundantly clear that ‘good at’ and ‘enjoy’ or ‘favorite’ were very different. To broker peace, Jonny said, “Robot camp was really fun, right Hadji?”  
His brother agreed, then jumped in about space camp being possible soon, the older boy at the age of registration, though Jonny was still two years shy.  
He laughed about it and then talked about a museum they’d visited that had a cool exhibit—it was a Natural History museum but it showed archaeology too, “Race’s daughter went, was Estella showing her findings there, Race?” He’d thought he’d asked politely, but apparently it was taboo to talk to a divorced man about his absent family at the holidays.  
His dad made that clear by the dirty look.  
He’d redirected to topics his dad liked, hoping he wouldn’t stay in that rotten mood if he pretended physics wasn’t extra boring. In the tug-of-war he hadn’t realized the ramifications of, he had tried to placate the adults, but grandpa felt warm to him.  
The only thing warm about his dad was his hot temper.  
Jonny’s eyes blinked open, wet, that hadn’t felt as awful at the time of the memory, he wondered why it felt so awkward now. More importantly, he wondered why his chest felt like a hive of wasps being used as a piñata.  
Strong hands kept pulling hard at something tethered inside him. He watched it in silent disgust as it slithered free from his throat.  
A heavy weight set on his chest as he realized he had to draw the air again.  
Body stuttering at the restart, it felt miserable. The steady, slow stream of tears confirmed it for anyone keeping tabs. He could see his dad in the corner just hovering… Touching his hand to his throat, he kept forcing himself to breathe as the doctors left his side.  
Oh man was he thirsty, he wished there was something to wet his throat with, heck, even just his lips and tongue.  
“H u u u…” He tried to emit a sound, a word, but it fell far short. Great, he was still stuck with no voice or means of viable communication. The feel of a cup being gently guided into his hand made his head snap up.  
Race kept a firm hold under the cup so it wouldn’t drop out on the kid. “Its water, take it slow, okay?”  
Jonny nodded slowly, he gave a weak smile, Race helped him sit up a little more and take a sip.  
Savoring the cool liquid, he let it drip down his throat cautiously, closing his eyes at the relief.  
He tapped quickly a meted measure, “THOUGHT – YOU – WERE – GONE – DAD – CANT – READ – MORSE.”  
“Is his hand still trembling?” Dr. Quest asked Race, watching what looked to him like a rolling tremor.  
Race smiled a disarming at ease look that made the redhead’s shoulders lose tension.  
“That’s not a tremor, Doc, he’s been communicating in Morse – his go-to when his voice drops on him, isn’t it kiddo?” He asked back to Jonny, glad the boy was clear headed enough to talk.  
“YEAH – I – GUESS.” He looked back at the cup, “MORE – WATER – PLEASE.”  
Race nodded, steered the cup back to his lips to take more in.  
“TIME.” Came an unclear question.  
“…It’s about 2 PM, have somewhere to go?” Race joked, the blond glanced at his dad.  
“LECTURE.”  
Race’s eyebrows contorted, “Lecture? About what? Oh! You mean his class lecture?” Jonny nodded once to confirm. “You lost a day, kiddo. That was yesterday, but cancelled.”  
Dr. Quest came to the hospital bed, “My, you two are having a lively conversation…” He took note of Jonny’s excitable tapping.  
“WHEN – GO – HOME.”  
Race looked between the two Quests.  
“WANT – SEE – GRANDPA,” Jonny tried, “WHY – VOICE – NOT.” He closed his eyes, he felt spent.  
“Jonny, let me translate, give me a minute…” Race implored, “Doc, did they say why his voice went out on him?”  
The two men gave a knowing look, not said was ‘psychological source,’ but both were strongly considering the possibility.  
“The muscle spasms may have helped it along…” Benton said in an even keel, “That, and ventilation, it may be a few days before it comes back fully.”  
“Jonny was asking about Doug… what did you want to discuss, Jonny?” Race brokered.  
“THANKSGIVING.” Jonny tried to articulate.  
“Having him visit for the holiday, or going there?” Race tried to figure out the full meaning.  
The azure eyes went wide, not sure the merit of discussing his dream, “MISS – HIM – WANT – TO – TALK – MOM.”  
“So either is open?” Race asked, “He want to see him and talk about Rachel.”  
Dr. Quest visibly winced, “Son, what about your mom did you want to talk about?” Race had told him some of the nightmares he’d been hallucinating, but had been tight-lipped beyond, ‘scary shit and seeing her corpse everywhere.’  
Jonny eyed both he and Race, “WANT – GRANDPA – TALK – TO.”  
“I got that, kiddo.” Race offered. The blond looked between them impatiently.  
“What did he say?” His dad asked.  
“That he wants to talk to Doug.”  
“Well, I don’t think he speaks Morse code…” he shot in a dismissive affect. The hurt look the blond gave him had stung. “I—I didn’t mean it like that Jonny, of course I can ask him to visit, or for you to visit, if you can—”  
His son gave him a wilting glare, tapping quickly to Race as he did.  
“MOM – EVER – GO – PARIS – ASK – DAD.”  
“He wants to know if Rachel’s ever been to Paris…”  
“—That’s what you want to ask Doug?” He was perplexed.  
“NO – I – MISS – HIM – WANT – YOU – TALK – ABOUT.” He shook his head, “NO – STUPID – FORGET – IT – TIRED.”  
“Jonny, that isn’t stupid…” Race struggled, he was way too hard on himself, “He just misses Doug, he wants you to talk about his—”  
“NO.”  
Race gave him a chastising look, “No? Are you kidding me, Jonny?”  
“TIRED.” He tapped, waited, repeated it for emphasis, “TIRED.”  
He sighed, “He’s tired.” He himself tapped out so Jonny could feel his own frustration between the two of them, “KID – MAKE – UP – YOUR – MIND.”  
“TIRED.” Jonny repeated.  
“LIAR.” Race tapped back, “Kiddo says he’s tired.” He shrugged, “I take that he just wants to see Doug, he was asking about Thanksgiving, let’s let his get some Z’s.”  
Dr. Quest nodded, “Sure, son, I can ask him…”  
The curt nod and the roll to his side was a firm attempt to hedge the conversation, though his dad continued anyway.  
“You can ask me anything about your mom…” He offered. His son’s back was the answer, or at least the ‘question’ he offered to it. “Right, you’re tired.” He reiterated, slightly peeved and irritable from the lack of sleep.  
This trip was an absolute bust. His son had been injured, and the recipient of some unseen wound to his psyche. His presentation, one had been truncated, the other cancelled, and the woman who’d attacked his son was still at large. With the tacked on bonus of an inescapable holiday with Doug also added to his docket, the whole experience was a damned travesty.  
He gave Race a suggestive head bob toward the hallway.  
Once out there, he asked quietly, “Well – what the hell was that about?”  
Race let out a long sigh.  
“Who knows—he’s gotta be in a lot of pain, so he might well be spent…”  
Dr. Quest agreed, “True, but, what was he asking?”  
“He wanted to hear you talk about his mom, about if she’d been to Paris, but he got frustrated that… I don’t know, maybe I was taking too many liberties from his sentence fragments, you said you thought he’d had a hand tremor?”  
“Yes, yesterday his hand kept shaking—or maybe signaling, but I’d thought it was a spasm, so I tried to distract him with the lecture about the plastics until he fell asleep, and when the kids got back from the Louvre they were eager to hear it too…”  
“Jonny’s never had chemistry, was he giving you that glazed over bored look he gets?”  
“…” Dr. Quest blanched, “No comment.”  
Race gave a laugh, “So he slept it off? No wonder he’s short today.”  
The redhead gave a dampened laugh, “Here, I’d thought he was tired.” A knowing look passed between the two.  
“Psychological, physiological, or both?”  
“It cut off so quickly, doc. I think that hallucination triggered it.”  
“That hallucination? You mean Rachel?”  
He released a breath, “I mean of her- well, his last memories of he with him.”  
Benton nodded, “And he was reliving that in some hallucination…”  
“And reinventing it, not in a good way.”  
He rubbed between his eyebrows, “Has Interpol said anything about the investigation?”  
“The threat wasn’t with Dr. Yuan, Dr. Arquette’s in the weeds, there’s no good reason to stay here. He’s stable enough to get him back to home turf.”  
“Who the hell is this Gaia? They were trying to forcibly recruit me or make him disappear until I align with their cause…”  
“I have Bennett looking into it on our end, but so far, no link is there with Arquette—that ‘organization’ seems more interested in other projects though…”  
“Which projects?” He asked darkly.  
“That one device that could be used as an EMP? That’s on their short list,” Race looked over the dossier, “Maybe even that biological engineering idea you had about extremophiles that could convert greenhouse gases… they have earmarks of eco-terrorists. There’s probably a few they’d love to get you working on.”  
He shook his head, reliving his own awful memories, “He’s gone through this before—I want these bastards rooted out. We’ll have to be careful with him until this threat is over.”  
“I know, doc. It’s on the top of the pile. Not just Bennett’s either, I called in a few favors. Let’s just get him home and acclimating, he’s a resilient kid. He’ll bounce back. We’ll just have to add in some TLC and help him get back to it.”  
Benton nodded, “I’ll leave the flight plan to you…” He gave a taut smile, “I’ll have to dance with my own devil, getting Doug on-board with a visit…”  
Race shrugged sympathetically, it was a cat baptism getting those two in a shared space.  
[Continued in Frequency.]


End file.
